


At loss.

by Madame_V



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mycroft-centric, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 02:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3751744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_V/pseuds/Madame_V
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Persistence spin-off. Mycroft introspects upon an unexpected gift. Just a man with a minor position in the government, a minor panic attack and a minor crush blooming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At loss.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Persistence.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264133) by [Madame_V](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_V/pseuds/Madame_V). 



> READ THIS GODDAMNIT! Hello :D sorry for being rude, please take a seat, stay, lemme make you some coffee. This is yet another work related to Persistence, set around chapter 11: Kindness. We'll see how did Mycroft take Greg's Christmas gift, I wanted to know more about his reaction as I wrote that chapter and this is me saying 'Fuck it, I'll go for it'. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this piece and remember I KILL A PUPPY EVERYTIME YOU DON'T COMMENT D: No! Puppies ;_; I feel so bad, now *hugs her dog*. Anyway comment, criticism and compliments help me improve, considering I don't have a beta and I'm not an native speaker. Due to that fact, I think I'd do well having you as betas so, comment.
> 
> All my love to you! <3 (:

Parking his car in the gravel path outside of the small cottage, he sat watching the old couple for a few moments. Siger Holmes, not the brilliant economist that had managed stock market in England for years, but the loving father and husband, the retired man that tended at his garden with as much care as he tended his beloved, clumsy wife, was in fine form today. Dressed in worn trousers, boots and warm cardigan as he placed a steaming cuppa on the garden table in front of his wife's hand, as she distractedly wrote down on a paper, possibly finding her way through anti-matter behavior. You could see the scattering genius that was Violet Vernet slicing her attention carefully to look up at her husband and receive a kiss on the forehead. Mycroft smiled softly, he secretly adored and relished that his parents would love each other quite so madly even at their advanced age, but it was probably the first time in a long time he had felt slightly jealous.

Exiting the car, the red haired man stood tall and vaguely noticed the sound that gravel made under his leather shoes as he walked to the back entrance where the couple awaited, Mycroft sighed and kissed his mum on the cheek as she devised him opening her arms and embracing him from her seat “Hello, my dear” she said quietly. His father patted him on the back “Are you staying enough to have a cuppa? I was about to try and convince your mother to come inside, it’s getting chilly out” she started gathering her papers “Go ahead without me, I’ll be there within a moment” she said and smiled again at her son.

Simply smirking back at her, carefully preventing it from reaching his eyes Mycroft walked inside after his father and stood around the kitchen, checking on his phone for more updates. Simply because it would give away his latent excitement. Just by looking at mummy he knew that the object implicit in his parents knowing looks was sitting on the coffee table. But the curl at the tips of his father’s lips spoke volumes of whatever Violet might have stuck into his head. Possibly about Gregory’s apparent infatuation, one the man in question had sensibly decided to ignore.

One way or another he was here to visit his parents after being absent for quite some time, having a few moments to spare and considering that his latest project was running smoothly with the main subject not suspecting a thing about being suspected of treason against the Crown. Mycroft sighed and pocketed his phone in time to seat at the kitchen table next to his father “How is work, Micky?” sighing at the nickname he said “Quite well, thank you. Mummy told me you had unwanted visits the other day” Siger chuckled and hummed.

They stayed in comfortable silence until Mrs. Holmes made her way in, rambunctious as ever “My love, I believe your badger is out from its hideout! I just saw it on the corner of the garden! Check the traps!” Mr. Holmes got up and dashed out “Oh, he’s been chasing after that blasted creature for almost a month; it’s been ruining his roses. Digging tunnels here and there, making noise in the night, your father has been seething over that thing every day…” she sighed looking out the window, eyes trained on her husband for a moment before walking past her son and patting his shoulder softly on the way to the coffee table where she dropped her notebooks and papers “You look awfully thin, dear. Have you been eating at all as of late?”.

Rolling his eyes and setting his teacup on the table he took a deep breath and said “I have been eating well enough, mother” she gave him a distrustful look and picked up a flat envelope in festive green, red and white paper. Cartoons of Christmas trees and decorations, as well as a bow messily placed on one side. It was clearly hand wrapped by someone that didn’t do this often, and considering Gregory had assured him it was purchased at a pawn shop with a dubious background business and the likeness that a drug-dealer would wrap a gift upon being arrested was rather unlikely (Even if it would be a humorous scene) Gregory had wrapped it himself.

His heart sunk in his chest and he felt a long play under the cover. He looked up at his mother ‘Privacy please’, she placed a hand on his upper back ‘Yes, love’ and turned to do the dishes and busy herself with the kitchen.

Leaving the LP on the table, he set his pale eyes on the cuppa before him and focused on breathing, even if his pulse was unwavering as ever. Mycroft was suddenly unable to bring himself to squash the feeling that it was strangely exhilarating that a day ago Gregory himself had passed through this threshold to accompany papa to his rose beds. That he had held conversation with his parents within the confines of this very kitchen and dressed rather nicely too if the picture he held in his personal (And untraceable) phone was anything to go by, acted at the best of his manners. Why? Why being his friend? Why now? Why so insistent in staying? Of course, he felt himself drawn to Gregory’s ever warm words and had often let himself be sheltered by his kindness.

But there had to be a catch, a limit. Something. Anything. And it had taken Mycroft’s sleep away on occasion that there was a slim chance that there were no stipulated rules on how to become someone’s friend. And if he daresay, fall in love with said someone that was virtually nothing else than a complete stranger.

‘Get on with it’ he thought and brought his hand to touch the surface of the gift, feeling anticipation tingle in his chest. He ripped the paper carefully enough not to compromise its integrity, and his eyes widened at the sight of a limited edition Cole Porter vinyl, wrapped in a plastic bag. Mycroft turned it around and it included a program from the concert where it had been sold, his heart stopped completely at the sight of the program signed in its entirety by the members of his band. His nerves were on the edge of breaking and now he was positively experiencing a breakdown.

The young man placed the long play on the table again, over the wrappings since he hardly trust his trembling hands any longer and took a deep breath, letting it out a shaky sigh. He closed his eyes not to shed any tears that threatened to come out as he felt his heart break in pieces and decided to focus on breathing. Mummy was blissfully silent, so he took a moment to place his head in his hands.

Retiring slowly into his Mind Palace, walking past the constellations of thoughts, Mycroft contemplated a familiar door and opened it to enter his brother’s former office. Wondering how long had it been since he received a gift from someone that wasn’t family? Perhaps Martin… And we know how that ended up, betrayal and his most beloved brother condemned to living in the shadows of the world in order to save Mycroft from himself at one failed mission. Sherrinford. What would he do?

In this room his brother’s doppelganger rose to his feet “Hello, duck” and pinched his cheek playfully, smiling like the Cheshire cat and sitting at his desk after tossing a file on it with the same natural grace in which he had in the last time Mycroft had seen him.

“Behave, Sherrinford” said Mycroft angrily, narrowing his eyes and pressing a hand to the sore spot.

The older Holmes stood tall and said “You should simply call me if you’re at loss, brother mine” he said looking at Mycroft with their mother’s kind eyes and standing to pace with their father’s confidence. If Sherlock ever asked about Sherrinford as a child, Mycroft would describe him like the only person he considered absolutely brilliant. Envied looks, soft at heart and firm in his decisions, perfect mixture of logic and faulty emotions that had wrecked them so many years ago. There was an explosion outside of the door and screams “You have to let that go, Mike” he set his eyes back on his brother and saw the sad smile in his features “Sit down, seems to me you are quite shaken, duck”, said the older man signaling to a chair in front of his desk.

Mycroft took it and sat stiffly, holding onto the armrests as if his very life and the entirety of this memory depended on it. Sherrinford’s features were slightly blurred so the younger Holmes took a moment to reconstruct his freckles and pale eyes and auburn hair “I do not what to… Do with this situation”.

The construct smiled and stayed silent, expecting for Mycroft to develop the idea in vain. Knowing that his brother rarely bothered explaining, yet this time he needed to talk “Come on, Micky, you have to give me something if you want my honest opinion” Sherrinford’s quiet baritone was soothing to his nerves, and Mycroft swallowed looking down at the desk, pursing his lips and cleaning the already clean surface “Stop pouting, brother mine. It was cute when you were a child but now’s bloody ridiculous. It’s Martin, isn’t it?” he asked without giving Mycroft the time to duck and cover. Another explosion made the entire room tremble, books fell from their shelves and a few frames fell to the floor with a clatter and breaking glass clipped sounds. Then there was silence.

Sighing Mycroft stood and picked up a particular frame with a picture of his brothers and himself “Sentimental as ever, brother” he said placing it face down on the desk.

“Yet you are the one that remembers this particular picture” retorted Sherrinford, smiling and picking it up the broken frame “It is not about Martin, now is it?” he asked.

Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, crossing his legs and sitting back “No” he said quietly “Martin was never thoughtful, we were just…” he revolved his hand delicately in the air as if signaling what their rendezvous was about. And that is what it was. They got along well enough, he had been the clever one and Martin had been the charming one; where Mycroft had been cold and distant, Martin had been raw and intense; of course after entering the MI6 together they’d end up sharing a bed and releasing frustrations with each other.

Martin was darkness in all the right places and deadly enough to know when to take advantage of weakness “It isn’t always weakness, Micky” his brother’s voice was calling him back to the memory “With Martin it was a mess, I did warn you that he’d be nothing but trouble. But you know better than to judging millions over one failed experiment”.

Sighing again Mycroft sighed and said “Of course I did not trust him completely”.

“It makes sense, you can’t really trust an MI6 agent” said Sherrinford with that tell-tale smirk, “That does not mean they do not make for brilliant lovers”.

“Oh, of course not. Rather fantastic in that way, quite pleasing” said Mycroft, feeling a bit more at ease “I would have preferred to speak to you, but you are quite busy hiding these days...” he looked up at his brother.

Sherrinford sat back with a frown “Go on, then. what brought you here?”

“Gregory Lestrade”

Mycroft watched at his brother blink at him “I see” and he did. The knowledge shined in the back of his pale grey eyes “See you have found yourself a commoner.. What did you call them?”

“Goldfish” he said pressing his hands to his face tiredly.

“Rude term, but you have never been most empathic. And the problem with this goldfish is…?” asked his older brother. There was a long moment of silence and Sherrinford chuckled “Oh, Mike” he said and Mycroft put his hands down.

“What?” sighing and frowning in exasperation, Mycroft ran a hand through his red hair.

Sherrinford narrowed his eyes at him and Mycroft sulked silently staring at him when another explosion shook the memory, much like the actual day it happened. Sherrinford pulled Mycroft from the chair and pulled him to the panic room with enough space for one, saying “You have to admit it to yourself, Mike. Or you will let it destroy you again; being aware is better than blissful ignorance and contained emotions!”

Mycroft felt his eyes damp again and the pain of failing to his brother claw at his chest “There is no such thing as contained emotions, Sherrinford!”

The door was blown open and the ceiling started falling in pieces as voices approached them from down the hall “Oh, little duck! Any emotion is better than denial! I love you, brother mine! No hard feelings!” and with a smile, taking his gun out of his holder and pointing at Mycroft's right leg. It would hurt in the rain for years to come, but there had to be a proof that sides had been taken by the brothers and that there was no relations left between them if Mycroft was to take after him. The shot resounded and the bullet inbedded in Mycroft's leg. With a last hug of fraternity, feeling sweat form on his forehead, Mycroft watched the hidden door to the bunker/panic room was closed before him.

Opening his eyes to his mum frantically texting in front of him, he took the long play in his hands and carefully extracted it from the plastic wrap. Walking to the living room and opening the player. He placed the pick on the edge of it and the single Easy to love started sounding.

 _I know too well that I'm just wasting precious time_  
_In thinking such a thing could be: you could ever care for me_  
_I'm sure you hate to hear that I adore you, dear_  
_But grant me, just the same, that I'm not entirely to blame_

Watching the record swirl before him and suddenly peace taking over him, he looked up to see his mum carefully looking at him "Sorry for missing your Easter luncheon, mummy" he said quietly and saw the dash of disappointment cross through his mother's features.

 _For you'd be so easy to love_  
_So easy to idolize all others above_  
_So sweet to waken with_  
_So nice to sit down to eggs & bacon with_

“I’ll forgive you if you dare take me in for a dance, love” she said smirking at him, a smile he returned to its full extent. Taking her hand in his and swaying with his mum in the living room “Quite a statement this song” she commented looking up at him.

Her son snorted and said “You have met him, he is not delicate enough to deliver a message through subtext” he responded and mummy lifted an eyebrow that spoke volumes of Mycroft's own hope to be wrong.

 _We'd be so grand at the game_  
_So carefree together that it does seem a shame_  
_That you can't see your future with me_  
_Cause you'd be, oh so easy to love_

Sighing as the tunes washed over his tense shoulders, letting himself close his eyes and lead his mum as his father sat on the sofa, taking deep breaths. Mycroft smirked knowing his mum was making faces at his father to show how excited she was for this ‘state of matters’ and ‘look at the song’ and ‘there might be a wedding in our futures after all’. He repressed laughter and opened his eyes to say “Mummy, he isn’t as interested as you believe and even if we are back on friendly terms-“

“Micky, let an old woman hope” bright pale eyes looked up at his own grey stormy ones, proud smirk set on her lips.

"You're hardly old" said Mycroft in hushed tones.

“I am simply happy to see you quite so shaken and content, since you were a child I thought that you wouldn’t find surprise in the world, at least not pleasant ones aside from the ones your brothers could provide and look at you now…” her smile grew earnest and broke what was left of Mycroft's heart “And Greg is a rather handsome surprise” mummy winked at her son and giggled as he blushed and chided a half-hearted 'Mummy!'.

 _You'd be so easy to love_  
_So easy to idolize all others above_  
_So worth the yearning for_  
_So swell to keep every home fire burning for_

 _Ah, how we'd bloom, how we'd thrive_  
_In a cottage for two, or even three, four or five_  
_So try to see your future with me_  
_Cause you'd be, oh, so easy to love_

‘He really would be so easy to love,’ thought Mycroft later in his own car, glancing sideways at the record sitting on the companion’s side at a stop nearing his flat.

In a world where Mycroft would have been bold enough to chat up the stranger sitting at the bar with his mates, laughing and talking of nothing. Perhaps in an alternate reality where Mycroft’s life was simpler and his work relations weren’t quite so complex or dangerous. An ideal world where he could achieve his goal without hurting those he dared love, perhaps a world where he could get up to Gregory’s sleeping form beside him and let himself cherish him properly and limitlessly.

If only.

**Author's Note:**

> Cole Porter's song is "Easy to love". Sounded fitting and I honestly LOVE the jazz version, that was the very one I saw Mycroft relaxing to and the lyrics are so cute. Just so cute. Here, hear it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kgt4osMFD2U. Dedicated to Tammany, because I used her badger! Lol.


End file.
